


Bull Sessions With The Helmsman

by MiyabiDreams



Series: Elysia [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Bromance, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3768430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyabiDreams/pseuds/MiyabiDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elysia likes to know her crew. And she feels especially drawn to her flight lieutenant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bull Sessions With The Helmsman

**Author's Note:**

> Just taking a few liberties with the dialogue here and there, taking it where I would have preferred to instead of the general awkwardness of the canon exchanges.

Boots coming up behind his chair was nothing new, he heard it nearly every shift. This was the first time that he'd heard that particular gait though, and the helmsman's gaze was drawn away from his console and over his shoulder, to a figure he only vaguely recognized.

"Moreau, right? Commander Shepard. You've probably heard by now, Anderson's stepped down. I'd like to get to know the people I'm working with."

Oh, here we go. The XO had been bumped up and now she was making the rounds. When Joker turned around to face her, his eyebrows had scooted up under the brim of his hat. This was the first time he'd seen her up close, that he could recall. Heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, exotic-looking without ever having to put on a hint of makeup. Pretty. What was she wearing? He wasn't sure he'd ever seen a female officer cover her head on deck before. He had only just realized he was staring at her when she cleared her throat and asked, "So, how's the Normandy performing? Is she everything they said she'd be?"

He had to stop himself from scoffing, but he still sounded just a little smug when he answered. "She's the best ship in the fleet...if you've got a pilot that knows how to handle her. Balance isn't what you'd expect, it takes a while to get used to that oversized drive core we've got stuffed in the back and her power can sneak up on you if you're not careful. Normandy's probably _too much_ ship for your average Alliance pilot to handle, but lucky for you? I'm anything but average."

"You're a little cocky, aren't you?" Shepard replied, crossing her arms over her chest. Joker just puffed up a little bit in indignation.

"I'm not good, I'm not even _great_ , I am the _best damn helmsman in the Alliance fleet._ Top of my class in flight school? I earned that. All those commendations in my file? I earned every single one, those weren't given to me as charity for my disease."

That pause made Joker's heart freeze. The look on the Commander's face, the blankness in her grey-blue eyes...he'd damned himself to the questions. The endless goddamn questions about how well he would be able to perform his duties. He was actually surprised when she pointed out, "I didn't even know you were sick. You certainly don't look it. But ah...is there anything I should know about this if I'm going to be putting the Normandy into your hands?"

Textbook reply time: "Ok, I've got _Vrolik's Syndrom_ ; Brittle Bone Disease? The bones in my legs never had the chance to develop properly, they're basically hollow, too much force and they'll shatter. Even with crutches and my leg braces it's hard to get around. One wrong step and CRACK! It's very dramatic. But I've learned to manage my condition, Commander. Put the Normandy in my hands, and I'll make her dance for you. Just uh. Don't ask me to get up and dance, unless you like the sound of snapping shin bones."

"I see. And you can fly the ship just fine, I take it. Anderson said you were one of the best he'd ever served with." That got a smile out of him, better than the exasperation Shepard had encountered when she'd arrived and formally introduced herself. Clearly, her helmsman didn't have much love for protocol.

"Really, Commander, what are you doing up here? There has to be something more important for you to do than _getting to know your crew_. We're supposed to follow your orders, you're supposed to stay alive and try to keep us alive and at the end of the day, we all go to bed knowing we're doing our jobs."

The Commander's full, plush lips pursed briefly, one eyebrow arching up in a somewhat unamused expression. Clearly, she wasn't satisfied with that. But her voice was quiet and level as she took a seat to one side, pulling one leg up into the chair with her, and finally Joker was struck by just how _tiny_ she was. Five-foot-three, slender, roped with barely visible but undeniable muscle, looking smaller still in the form-fitting Alliance uniform. His eyes traveled briefly to the scarf that was covering her head, and the corner of her mouth quirked up briefly. She was ready for his questions, he was sure, but it still felt a little...weird, bringing it up first.

"If you're wondering what's underneath, it's just hair," she said with a quiet chuckle. She plucked at the slightly shimmering, but otherwise plain fabric that was draped over her head and wrapped casually around her neck, tossed over a shoulder and covering a portion of her chest. "It's an heirloom from my mother. And yes, it is allowed within reason on Alliance vessels."

"Riiight, right, because obviously what officer in their right mind would question one of their prodigies wearing a piece of historically and religiously sexist attire while in charge of the most advanced ship in the fleet?"

Oh he wasn't doing himself any favors now. The look that Shepard gave him then could have set his beard on fire, he was fairly certain, but when she replied, her words were carefully measured, while still sounding just as candid as if they were discussing the weather.

"While you would be right about three centuries ago," she said, still training that nerve-wrackingly laserpointed look on him, staring him straight in the face, "after the turn of the twenty-first century, women the world over began to claim the hijab and other forms of head dress as their own symbols of power and individuality. Mother, for example, wore hers because it made her feel beautiful."

"Somehow I can't imagine that being your reason."

"Well, yeah. I don't need to wear something pretty to know that I am." Joker was somewhat taken aback by that one. Who would have known that the Commander was full of herself? "I wear it because it connects me to my heritage, and my family. They were first-generation colonists, but they felt it important that we hold onto where we came from."

"And your family came from...?"

"Egypt. Mother was Nubian."

"What about your dad?"

"South African."

"How do you go from living somewhere hot like that to somewhere like Mindoir?"

"Mother wanted to see what else the universe had to offer. She believed that the gods gave us this whole expansive existence, and that we were destined to spread in it and meet other life out there. Mindoir just happened to be the most favorable option at the time."

The way her smile had started to fade, Joker knew they were treading on thin ice; he had heard where their former XO had come from, what had happened to her pre-service, the time in a Citadel hospital, the valiant attempts to drown out the sympathy with ferocious determination in her training and rising through the Alliance ranks. At first glance, Shepard didn't look like a soldier, not as they were traditionally depicted, but every damn person on this ship knew what she was capable of. She could crush anyone there with a biotic smash, send them into the stratosphere with a Lift, or fill them full of shotgun slugs at close range. She was one of the best at piloting a Mako rover, with minimal cartwheeling and more Thresher Maw kills under her belt than most Krogan warlords ever even saw. She was a focused, intense killer, and anyone in the fleet would be right to fear her.

"So, why do they call you Joker?"

Well, that was one way to break him out of his reverie.

"It's a lot shorter than saying Alliance Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau. And I love making little children laugh."

The laugh that earned him made his ears turn a subtle pink. It was musical, bright, and accentuated those little dimples in each cheek. Shit, she was cute.

"I was just thinking how you reminded me of Santa Clause," she chuckled, propping her chin on the heel of her hand and giving him that same quirked eyebrow.

"Look, I didn't pick the name. One of my instructors used to pick on me for never smiling. She started callin' me Joker, _nyeeeh_ , and it stuck."

"Why didn't you ever smile?" Shepard asked, and he grimaced.

"Hey, I worked my ass off in flight school Commander. The world's not gonna hand you anything goin' around grinning like an idiot, you know that. By the end of the year, I was the best pilot in the academy, even better than the instructors, and everyone knew it. They'd all been beaten by the sickly kid with the creaky little legs. One guess who was smiling at graduation." The pride in his voice at the end got a nod out of her, and she climbed out of her seat just as Lieutenant Alenko came to take up a spot next to Joker in the helm, monitoring the secondary equipment.

"I'd better go. We'll talk more later," she said as she went, lifting a hand to flip Joker a wave just as flippant as the one he gave her in return.

Alenko was looking between them with an unreadable expression, right up until Joker turned on him. "What?"

"Nothing."


End file.
